Obligation
by DullHaven
Summary: When a figure from the past brings along more baggage than expected, Kensi is forced to accept an obligation that puts her safety on the line.
1. Chapter 1

They weren't looking at each other. For now, being in the same room was a lot to bear. Making eye contact would only send the facade of indifference that she'd built upon seeing him in her doorway careening down. She was in no way ready for that and she highly doubted that he was either. Her eyes stayed focused on her fingertips, which were twisting and gliding over each other in a fidgety dance that they hadn't done for ages. Years as an agent had given her control that could usually keep her composed and focused. But for now, it soothed her.

Occasionally, she could feel his eyes glide over her, sometimes pausing to stare, but mostly snatching a quick glance before being averted elsewhere. Fine by her. He could look all that he liked, as long as he maintained the silence that had blanketed her living room for the past half hour. His voice may not be able to completely demolish her front, but she'd place a bet that it could at least put cracks in it. Cracks weren't any good. Cracks allowed power to leak out and emotions to break their way in.

She briefly weighed the odds of stealing a breath without choking on it. It seemed unlikely, but there wasn't really any other option. Passing out on the carpeted floor could seriously impede her ability to remain in control of the situation. Her lungs screamed and she finally gave in, sucking in as much oxygen as she could, hoping to conserve it. It came out sounding too much like a gasp for her liking, but she was far beyond caring about his opinion of her.

If she's honest with herself, she knows that that isn't true. She cares about what he thinks. She cares a lot. When she first joined NCIS, she'd spent a considerable amount of time lying awake, wondering if he would be proud of the person that she'd become. Now, the only thing she wants him notice about her is her strength. And her stoicism. And maybe a bit of the fact that she was getting along just fine without him. That would be satisfying. Although, she was hardly in any mood to be honest with herself.

A slight glance aimed out of the corner of her eye through the thick wall of her hair revealed that he was hunched over, head in hands. He seemed to be breathing very slowly, a habit of his that generally surfaced when she was trying his patience. Good. She hoped that this encounter was slamming into him like it was doing to her, knocking his breath out of his body and sending his world lurching off kilter. That was exactly what he deserved.

"Why are you here, Jack?"

Even his name felt rough, scraping itself out of her throat, leaving deep scratches in its path. It feels like she's swallowed sandpaper, but she carefully trains her face to keep him in the dark. He can't know how badly this is affecting her.

"I wanted to see you," he said simply, as if he were just telling that he was in the mood for ice cream. Like this was something that he did all the time.

_I was in the neighborhood and I'd thought I'd stop by and derail your life..._

Under any other circumstances she may have chuckled at herself. Now, her fingers tightened and her fidgeting became more of a grasp as she struggled to keep a hold on her composure. She wasn't sure that she had any kind of response for him. Not an appropriate one at least. Her mind was torn between throwing him out and begging him to stay with her. Her hands twitched in a strange need to strike him, to make him feel something similar what she had experienced when he left her all those years ago. But at the same time, it seemed like her lips were straining with the need to attach themselves to his mouth, to feel him against her again.

Jack seemed to realize that she wasn't going to react any time soon because she heard his voice prodding at her again, more unsure this time. He was rambling slightly, maybe hoping that something he said would poke at the right nerve to make her speak.

"I made a mistake, Kensi. And it took me a long time to realize it. But the minute that I did, I went looking for you, but you weren't at our old apartment. Why did you move Kensi? You loved our apartment."

Silence. He continued.

"Eventually, Alex told me where you were. He said that he's been checking on you for me. To be honest, I'm pretty sure he'd really rather not be my brother anymore. I think that he's even more pissed off than you are."

"Then you're underestimating just how pissed I am."

When she finally forced her voice to work again, it came out jagged. Icy, even. Her body trembled as the words tumbled out of her mouth, sending a chill down her spine and into her stomach. It seemed to have the same effect on Jack. He flinched.

"I'm sorry, Kensi."

"You should be," she informed him, slowly untangling her legs from their curled position. "Where are you staying?"

His hand scraped across the back of his neck and he glanced at her, sheepishly admitting that he hadn't thought far enough ahead to book a hotel.

Her eyes carefully studied his rumpled figure, scanning and looking for differences from the Jack that had crept out of their bed and her life. They were there. Subtle, but there. He'd never looked all that well rested, at least not after he was deployed. But now, the circles under his eyes seemed to have been molded into his already hollowed face. He hadn't lost any weight, as would be expected from a person in Jack's condition. On the contrary, he seemed to have _built_ muscle in the years he'd been away. Which made sense, considering his penchant for physically exerting himself when stressed. Yet still, his body seemed deflated, weary even with the sizable muscles.

She sighed. It was much easier to detest someone who didn't look so damn vulnerable.

Jack jumped, startled by the sound of her muscles popping as she stood.

"You can have the couch," she explained, making her way to the closet to find an extra pillow. She tugged one down from the top shelf before whirling to face him. "And _only_ the couch."

"Wouldn't expect anything more."

His slight grin disappeared under her abrupt stare, and he squirmed like a school child being scolded by a teacher.

"I have work in the morning," she said through her teeth, setting the pillow on the couch without making eye contact with the man. "I work for the government now."

She was already in the doorway of her bedroom, before she turned to face him, a sudden afterthought striking her.

"I carry a gun, now."

Jack nodded. "Point taken."

* * *

><p>It was no surprise that her eyes never closed that night. She was hardly a deep sleeper, and having another presence in the home kept her on edge, ready to act at any moment. Jack wasn't loud by any means, but she could swear that she could <em>feel<em> him breathing. And beside all that, her mind was absolutely _spinning_. She half expected that if she stood up, she would be too dizzy to keep on her feet.

_Crack_.

Something was moving in the living room. She knew it was Jack, but that was little comfort. Especially when she was starting to feel like she didn't know him anymore.

The hinges squealed faintly as she pushed the door open, just a crack, so that she could see the man on the couch. His legs were tangled in the throw blanket that he'd taken from the armchair, and his face was crumpled in what appeared to be pain. Without another thought, Kensi was kneeling next to him, hands on his shoulders, attempting to shake him awake.

"_Jack_," she urged, become slightly panicked when he began to flail, "Jack, wake up."

He did.

And when he did, he grabbed her arms, eyes wide but not seeing anything. His grip tightened and she thrashed to escape his hands. Finally, she wrenched herself away falling back, head hitting the coffee table on the way down.

Silence.

The two stared at each other, Kensi on the floor and Jack on the couch, breathing heavily.

_What the hell was that?_


	2. Chapter 2

"Late night?"

It was far too early in the morning to hear Deeks' voice. Especially when he made comments like that.

Jack had settled down almost immediately after the incident, but Kensi wasn't even motivated to try. If having him in her apartment made her uncomfortable before, now it was impossible to feel at ease in her own home. Something in the back of her mind had been stirring, and she'd sat awake all night trying to bring it to surface. It was possible that it wasn't really a forgotten memory at all, just a self created distraction to keep her restless mind busy and _away_ from contemplating the events of the night, but that prospect was no more pleasing than the first. Add that to the fact that she had bruises in the shape of Jack's hands on her forearms and a lump the size of Peru on the back of her head, and you had a downright pissed off Kensi Blye.

"Longer morning," she assured the detective, glaring pointedly until he lifted a sheepish hand in surrender, "And I've only been here for twenty minutes."

Deeks beamed and moved to sit on the edge of her desk, ignoring her disgruntled sigh when he crumpled the paperwork that had been in his place. "You mean to tell me that you've been here for an entire twenty minutes, and have yet to greet your partner? Kensi, I'm shocked."

"Really, Deeks? Would have thought that you were used to being avoided," Callen commented, feigning surprise. A quiet laugh escaped her lips as her team leader handed her a coffee and Deeks placed a hand over his heart, the picture of a wounded man. She kill if it got out, but she wasn't nearly as annoyed by her coworkers as she pretended to be.

Sam slid into his seat smiling at her and rolling his eyes towards Deeks, seeming unsure if she was actually upset. Kensi nodded, grinning back, and reached to pick through the file on her desk. It didn't take long to discover that it was entirely completed, an astonishing event in the Special Ops team office. Raising her eyes in confusion, she noticed that the rest of the team was experiencing the same phenomenon.

"Do we actually have..._nothing to do_?" Deeks questioned, seeming stunned.

Shrugging, Callen nodded, rising from his seat and putting the file in his hand back in the drawer. "Guess so. Our last case was almost a week ago."

For Deeks this was a first, but it had happened a few times before while she was at NCIS. In the past, the team had always spent an enjoyable day working in the gym, no one even _thinking_ let alone suggesting that they take the day off. But that couldn't be happening today. Kensi's luck simply wasn't _that_ bad. They wouldn't be sparring on the only day of the year that her body was aching and she couldn't dress normally because of the bruises.

"Okay. Let's head to the gym, then. Training day."

The other men rose from their desks, eager to get started. It was nice to have an exciting day of work that no one had to die for. Kensi normally savored these days too, when she _didn't_ have secrets to keep.

"Callen?"

The agent distractedly glanced in her direction, shoving his phone in his pocket. "Yeah, Kens?"

"Is it alright if I sit this one out?"

The room stilled, all three men halted in their tracks, stunned. Kensi? Miss a chance to spar with her team mates?

"Does she have a fever?" Deeks asked, confused by his partner's refusal.

The woman ducked away when it looked as if Callen was going to check. She rolled her eyes and smiled, hopefully making the entire situation seem much more lighthearted than the other agents were making it out to be.

"I'm fine. I just...don't feel like it today."

She could feel Callen's eyes on her, taking in everything from her tense posture to her clearly forced facial expression. It was when she saw the first spark of genuine worry in his eyes that she knew she didn't have a chance of missing the session. In her years at NCIS, Kensi had noticed that while Callen was far from the first person to talk about a problem, he tended to keep it close to him for inconspicuous observation.

And what better way to keep Kensi close than to circle around her on the gym mat?

"Four makes it even. If you're really not up to it, Kens, someone will take you home. But otherwise-"

"Never mind," she said quickly, imagining the ramifications of one of her team members finding Jack on her couch, "I'll come."

The silence was still uncomfortable, but the team heaved a sigh of relief when Sam broke it, slinging an arm over Kensi's shoulder. "I warned you that she was going to get tired of kicking our asses one of these days."

"Yeah, I just didn't expect Deeks fill his quota so soon. You do realize that you're allowed to win every once in a while, right Deeks?"

"I really don't mind," Kensi added, glad that everything seemed to have blown over, "It keeps things interesting."

"Shut up. All three of you."

–

This was going to be more troublesome than she thought.

Kensi noticed Callen subtly glancing at her long sleeve T-Shirt, seeming calculating, but didn't meet his eyes when he tried to catch her's. Let him wonder. If she didn't say anything, it was unlikely that he would either. Her eyes tried to roll in irritation, and she had to restrain them. She'd spotted Sam and Callen sharing a long look before quickly cutting their eyes in her direction. Their soundless partner communication had never bothered the woman before, but then again, it had never been about _her_.

"Deeks," Callen called, waving him over to the center mat, "You're with me."

Ah. The old divide and conquer tactic. She'd seen it used before, but she'd never been the target. Deeks, who was not gifted in the art of reading Sam and Callen's silent conversations, was going to be filled in on his partner's strange behavior. And Kensi was going to be grilled.

A playful blow to her shoulder urged her out of her thoughts, signaling that Sam was ready to start. Her feet twisted to face him, but she kept her torso steady, using it to wind up more force to put into her first hit. The punch landed on Sam's side, forcing him to step forward and use his other hand to ward off her attack.

"Whoa," he said, turning to avoid another blow, "For someone who didn't want to spar, you're awfully spirited today."

"Caught a second wind," she explained, keeping an eye on all his movements, hoping to predict his next strike.

They both backed up to the edge of the ring, moving slowly from side to side, waiting for the other to make a move. A shout of protest came from across the gym and both agent chuckled. It didn't sound like Callen was going easy on Deeks.

"I would have driven you home," Sam said, pulling her back to her own session.

"I know. You're nice like that." While he was distracted, she swept her foot under his ankles, leaving him sprawled on the mat. He blinked up at her, affronted, looking less than pleased about her quiet laughter. Kensi shrugged. "What can I say? I'm not."

He shook his head and reached up to grab her forearms, intending to pull himself up and admit defeat. What he hadn't expected was her slight cry of pain, accompanied by her immediate drop to mat.

Her vision began to squirm. The pain from the lump on her head was pulsating, combined with the initial shock of feeling the pressure on her tender arms. Sam's arm was under her shoulders, and he was propping her against his side. She could hear Deeks and Callen rushing to their side of the gym, questioning Sam and calling her name.

"What happened?" Callen demanded, watching as Sam trailed a hand over the back of her head, hissing when he discovered the lump.

"Check her arms."

Before she could stop it, Kensi's sleeves were pushed past her elbows, and she had to suppress a groan. This was going to be difficult to explain.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam's grip instinctively tightened around her shoulders as Deeks jolted back as if he'd been shocked, afraid he'd made contact with a bruise that hadn't been revealed. The jovial mood that had come over the team while they were sparring was gone now, sucked out of the gym faster than they would have thought possible. It was replaced by an air of stunned silence, none of the team members willing to come to terms with the fact that one of their own was evidently in trouble.

"Kensi," Callen breathed, running a gentle hand over her injured limbs, "What the hell happened?"

The woman wrenched her shoulders away and moved to dodge her coworkers, who were attempting to keep her still. "What? They're just bruises."

"Shaped like hand prints," Deeks protested.

Once she was on her feet, there was very little the men could do to keep her from storming to the door of the gym. Kensi sincerely hoped that her stride seemed infuriated and not queasy like she felt. It wouldn't do for her to appear less than confident, now more than ever. It wasn't long before she heard Deeks' frenzied footsteps trailing after her and saw the others heading towards Hetty's office, no doubt planning to tell her what had gone on.

Her desk chair creaked as threw herself down in it, pretending that she wasn't still in her work out clothing in the middle of the office. Deeks settled in his chair, for once quiet, trying not to subject her to the onslaught of questions that was aching to be released. His fingers tapped against the edge of the desk, anxiously pounding out the rhythm to a song that he'd heard on the radio that morning. Finally, he stumbled to his feet, exiting the room and leaving Kensi alone with her thoughts.

She'd just decided to retrieve her clothes from the locker room when her partner returned, carrying an ice bag that was wrapped in a hand towel. He tentatively wrapped an arm around her shoulders and nodded towards the nearest armchair, hoping to urge her into it.

"Sam said that they looked pretty fresh. The ice may still help."

Figuring that it wouldn't do any harm to try, Kensi sat and reached for the ice, rolling her eyes when Deeks placed it on her arms himself. The ice caused a surge of discomfort, before numbing the area and soothing the ache that had settled there. Now that she wasn't so panicked, she wished that she'd stayed in the gym. The team was more likely to have left her alone if she'd simply brushed it off and offered a breezy explanation. Normally, she would have. But today, Kensi was far from being at her best.

The ice was doing its job, numbing her arm but not her mind. Her thoughts raced as she waited for the other men to return to their desks. They were going to be twelve times harder to deceive with Hetty's advice on their side, and she was already going to have a hard time keeping them out of the loop. There was the option of telling them the truth, bu there was no guarantee that they would see what she saw. That Jack meant no harm and simply needed help. None of this was his fault. He couldn't control his PTSD.

Things had changed since she and Jack had been together. Before, his nightmares had been carefully been maintained by the rounds of medication that Kensi _assumed_ he was still taking. Did he still occasionally forget where he was? _Who_ she was? The answer seemed to be yes, and to a greater extent than it did previously. Jack had never harmed her, but she couldn't deny that she'd seen that look in his eyes when they were still living in the same apartment. The one that showed that he was just barely preserving his grasp on reality, until it completely slipped away from him on her couch the night before.

Her eyelids began to sag, the lost night of sleep catching up to her. She curled further into the chair, hoping to convey that she didn't want to talk to her partner. After a few minutes, Deeks seemed to decide that she was asleep because he sighed heavily and rested his head on his hand. Kensi had to restrain herself from squirming in guilt. She knew how difficult this was for him, but she just couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth and possibly put Jack in a tough position.

She had almost convinced _herself_ that she was asleep when Sam and Callen entered the main office. Callen's footsteps headed straight to his desk, but Sam's seemed to take a detour. It wasn't until she felt his heavy hand on head, moving her hair aside to examine her injury, that she realized where he'd gone. Deciding that she probably would have awakened if she _had_ actually been asleep, Kensi stirred, pretending to blink confusedly up at her coworker.

"Sam?"

The older man smiled, backing up towards his desk, knowing that she wouldn't put up with his protectiveness for much longer.

Kensi sighed. They all really needed to move past this. If she'd wanted a case to solve earlier, now she'd be willing to beg for one. It was likely that the team would soon dissolve into a mixture between awkward silence and awkward questions, both of which would keep her on edge. She shifted in the armchair so that her legs were dangling over one arm and her torso was being supported by the other. The bag of ice slipped slightly before falling to the floor, for the most part forgotten.

"Are we going back to the gym, or are we calling it a day?" she asked, yanking her sleeves down to her wrists.

Callen blinked, startled out of whatever he'd been thinking, and stared thoughtfully towards his junior agent. He was obviously trying very carefully to make a the right decision. Finally, he nodded slowly, standing up from his desk and reaching for his things.

"Yeah. A day off won't kill us. Go ahead and get out of here."

The younger woman sprang to her feet, hurrying to collect her things before he had time to rethink his orders.

"But I'll drive you home, Kens. We still don't know whether or not you have a concussion."

"G," she began her exasperation evident in her voice. _Why couldn't he just let it alone?_

"I think that's a fine idea, Mr. Callen," a voice broke in from behind the divider, "Why don't you go start the car while I have a word with Ms. Blye?"

The room couldn't have been cleared faster if she'd told them that the building was on fire and she was looking for volunteers to save the Armani.

When the two women were left alone, Hetty rested a hand on her agent's forearm, looking up into shaded brown eyes.

"Be very careful, my girl," she pleaded, her voice pained and quiet. "Make sure that you know exactly what you're getting into."


	4. Chapter 4

As much as she was hoping that the ride home would be silent, Kensi knew that it was an unlikely possibility. Callen had wanted to be alone with her for a reason, and it was fairly obvious that it had nothing to do with a concussion. Her fingers tapped against her knee as they pulled out of the parking lot, but she made no effort to still them. There was no reason not to show a little impatience, especially when part of her wanted to face the window with her arms crossed like a defiant teenager.

If his constant throat clearing was any indication, Callen had something to say. Or maybe he just had a cold. The first one seemed more likely.

"You want to talk?"

Kensi snorted. "That's not very subtle."

"Wasn't going for subtle," Callen explained, shrugging, "Figured you'd see through it anyway."

Admittedly, that was probably true. But still, it was slightly irritating that he knew her so well. Without waiting for an answer to his first question, the older man rushed on, possibly sensing the annoyance in her posture.

"How's your head? We could probably get you to a doctor today if we made an appointment now."

And suddenly, he wasn't the enemy anymore. He was Callen, the team leader that had forced her into a Kevlar vest for her first three missions, even though no one else on the team was wearing one. The same team leader that had spent the night at her place after her first kill, helping her through the nightmares and pretending to forget it had ever happened in the morning. It wasn't frequent that Callen yielded to his more overprotective urges, but when he did, he rarely failed to do what was best. Problem was, what was best for her was most likely _not_ what was best for Jack. And at the moment, she really needed to focus on Jack.

The thought was enough to make Kensi sigh. She was caught between a rock and a hard place. Or three hard places if she counted Sam and Deeks.

"I'm fine, G," she assured him, hating that she couldn't meet his eyes while she said it. " I know what it looked like earlier, but I'm not in any kind of trouble."

His head nodded, but his entire manner seemed doubtful. "If you're sure."

When they pulled up next to her home, Kensi had to restrain herself from opening her door before they came to a complete stop. She was eager to get away from the tense environment that being with her well meaning coworkers was creating. It would be even more of a relief if she wasn't escaping one war zone for another. While things with Jack hadn't been too awkward when she'd left for work that morning, he'd had time to stew in his own thoughts while she'd been dealing with the consequences. It was possible that all that combined would lead to an all out mess of emotions.

Which she would step into as soon as Callen let her out of the car.

"The door is locked," she told him, helpfully.

Callen nodded. "I noticed."

Deciding not to panic, after all the team leader couldn't possibly keep her in the car forever, Kensi relaxed into her seat and sighed, fixing him with slight glare that she usually used to keep Deeks on his best behavior. However, Callen didn't seem to be intimidated in the slightest, not that she' d had high hopes that he would.

"You mind if I come in for a minute?" he asked, smirking slightly and shaking the water bottle that he grabbed from the cup holder. "Bathroom break."

He thought that he had her in a bind. And he did. Protesting too much would just further confirm his suspicions that she had something to hide. The problem was, she _did_ have something to hide. Or rather, _someone_. A meeting between Callen and Jack was not something that she was eager to witness. During the Talbot case, her team leader had heard the story of her engagement and seen her struggle not to cry while she was in the interrogation room. Chances were, though they'd never met, Callen was not a particularly big fan of Jack's.

"It's sort of a mess," Kensi said forcefully, surreptitiously flicking the lock on her door up.

"I don't mind."

Her door swung open before the words were even completely out of his mouth. She stepped out hurriedly, deciding that this had gone on for far too long, and stared back at a concerned Callen.

"I do."

And the door slammed shut.

* * *

><p>Her <em>front<em> door, however, cracked against the wall as it flew open. Kensi had been particularly noisy that evening, half from frustration, half out of the desire to warn Jack of her presence. As far as she could remember, he didn't take well to surprises. She winced at the noise her keys made against the kitchen counter and took a deep breath when Jack didn't appear immediately. It was irrational, she _had_ seen his car when she arrived home, but she began to panic, hoping against hope that he hadn't done this _again_. There was just no way that she would be able to handle that.

It took a moment for her heart to start beating again when Jack wandered into the kitchen, looking disheveled and exhausted. He offered a slight smile and slid onto the nearest kitchen chair.

"Hey. How was your day?"

If he only knew.

"Long," Kensi said simply, pulling at her jacket so that it covered the NCIS badge that she wore on her hip. All that he really needed to know right then was that she worked for the government. Details could come later. Maybe. She could hear him sigh loudly, but didn't turn to face him right away. Something was upsetting him, and she had a fairly decent idea of what that was.

"Listen, Kens," Jack breathed, "If I caused you any trouble today-"

"No," she said hurriedly, "Jack, just don't worry about it."

Her words lost their fire halfway through, becoming more tired than anything. She turned to open the fridge, both looking for a drink and hiding her expression from Jack. It was surprising that he had chosen to bring last night into the conversation, but since he did, she decided to go with it and figure out what exactly had happened.

"Did you take your Triazolam before you went to bed?" she asked, feigning nonchalance. She remembered that he didn't take it all the time, but when he had nightmares, which he obviously was, he usually went back to it for a few weeks at time.

Kensi watched as his spine went rigid before he forced himself to relax it. Her hand fell from the fridge door. Something told her that she wasn't going to like what he had to say.

"I'm not taking the Triazolam anymore."

"I thought your doctor didn't like the idea of messing with your medication. Did he put you on a different benzodiazepine?"

He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, unsure of how she was going to react to his next words. If he had to place a bet, it was going to be on a resounding 'not well'.

"I'm not really getting a steady paycheck right now," he murmured, avoiding her heavy gaze, which was threatening to crash down on his shoulders. "I don't have the cash for all those meds."

That certainly explained a lot.

Before his PTSD was diagnosed, Jack had gone without treatment for what had been the toughest three weeks of their relationship. She'd stormed out twice, threatened not to come back once. It was impossible to tell how many times he'd lost his temper with her, or she'd gone to bed crying because she didn't know what he needed from her. His return from Fallujah had been the subject of so many daydreams of her's, and she'd known that it wouldn't be easy, but she'd in no way imagined the hellish experience that it had been. For Jack especially.

Which is why he never skipped his medication. Except for now, apparently.

"Jack," she sighed, trying not to sound too exasperated, "Jack, you know you need those. You should have called me the minute you realized that you couldn't pay for those prescriptions. I could have helped."

The man rolled his eyes, rising from the table. "I wasn't going to come crying to you for money. I'm better than that."

"Still-"

"Damnit, Kensi," he snapped, slamming his fist on the kitchen counter. The entire kitchen seemed to shake and before she could stop herself, Kensi jumped back. "I don't need you telling me how to live my life."

Things were deteriorating quickly, and she attempted to place a hand on his arm, hoping to calm him down. Before she could touch him, he caught hold of her wrist and forcefully threw it aside. It knocked against the counter and bounced up. Kensi swore and held it against her torso.

"Jack," she tried again, half angry, half confused. He'd never raised a hand to her before, and now it happened twice in twenty four hours? It didn't make sense.

But Jack was already out the front door, slamming it behind him. The fact that his wallet and car keys were still on the table was the only thing that kept her rooted to the floor, unable to follow even though her instincts were practically _screaming_ for her to.

Her breath came quickly and before she knew it, she was panting. _I am not hyperventilating_, she assured herself. _I'm not having a panic attack. _

Bottles rattled as she pulled open the refrigerator, needing a drink now more than ever. Kensi knelt down to take a beer from the bottom shelf, throwing her resolve to only drink on the weekends out the proverbial window, but squinted confusedly when she came up empty. That was strange. She knew that there had at least been a six pack in there, left over from the night after their last case, when Deeks had shown up at her door bearing alcohol and conversation. Where was it?

The realization jolted through her and she scrambled towards the trash can, pulling the lid off and looking inside.

_Damnit_.

She couldn't believe it. He'd been drinking. Heavily.

Kensi sat back and put a hand on her head, aware that she was sitting on her kitchen floor but caring very little.

_Damnit._

He was off his meds, and he was drinking. And losing his temper. This was not the Jack that she remembered. Her wrist throbbed and the slight pain urged her to her feet, propelling her into action. There was no ice in her freezer, but she did have painkillers in the medicine cabinet.

The pills rattled in the bottle as she struggled to open it, becoming more agitated when her wrist began to ache. Finally, she gave up and slammed the bottle onto the counter, fighting back tears. Forget it, it didn't hurt that badly anyway. Kensi sighed.

This reunion was not going near as well as she would have hoped.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Out of curiosity, does anyone have a preference as to when this is updated? Some people like having it done every Tuesday, but a lot of the time it's ready earlier. I'm up for either one.<em>


	5. Chapter 5

She was headed towards forty eight hours without sleep faster than she would have liked to, but Kensi's eyes could not be pulled away from the door long enough for them to shut. Jack had left hours ago, and while at first she had remained at least relatively composed, now she was so close to another full blown panic attack that she could feel it creeping into her mind and lungs. Once she had pulled herself together enough to get off the kitchen floor, she managed to climb into the arm chair that was facing the door, and that was where she stayed. Her hands were twisted in her lap, where they had started fidgeting but soon tensed into an uncomfortable stillness. He would come back, she assured herself. _He had to come back._

Her head began to droop, not through any fault of her own. While adrenaline and the jagged edges of her raw emotions had been enough to keep her awake during the day, at some point they were overwhelmed by exhaustion. When Jack came back, it was going to be difficult to keep from reaming him out for worrying her. For leaving. For hurting her. For coming bac-

No, not coming back. Kensi refused to blame him for that, she wouldn't do it. Things may have seemed easier while he was gone, but she _had_ missed him. Every day. And she was going to get him back.

She was able to keep herself occupied by carefully pulling the empty bottles out of the trash and setting them in a row on the kitchen counter. Seeing them out in the open may be enough to poke at Jack's conscience, which was exactly what she needed to pull him out of his funk.

The old wooden door groaned as someone pounded on the other side, apparently angry enough to not care about waking her neighbors.

_Jack_.

The name had almost escaped her lips when she was corrected by the sound of her _partner's_ voice.

"Kensi, it's Deeks. Let me in."

_Oh, shit._

The door was pulled out of her hands the second that she unlocked it, and Deeks was in her entryway before she was remotely ready for it. Kensi balanced on the balls of her feet, prepared for any situation, any argument that he may bring to the table. What she was not prepared for, was the _silence_. The man was staring wildly between her and the kitchen, looking around in disbelief.

"What the _hell_, Kensi?"

"What?" she demanded, "Deeks, what's wrong?"

His gaze seemed stuck on something over her shoulder, and for one horrifying moment she thought that Jack had entered without alerting her. Now was not the time for the two to meet, not with both of them so angry. But Jack wasn't there when she spun to face the kitchen, hoping to spot what had made Deeks freeze. But the bottles that she had meticulously lined up along the counter in the hopes of confronting Jack were. Kensi had been right. Seeing them put out so blatantly was enough to make her squirm with guilt, even if she hadn't actually done anything.

"I'm not drunk, Deeks."

It sounded weak, even to her own ears, and the minute that it was out of her mouth she knew that it would never convince Deeks of anything. That much became obvious when he brushed past her to take one of the bottles in his hand, looking at the label without really reading the words.

"You got a fish with a drinking problem?" he asked, the sarcasm that was dripping from every syllable seeming less playful than it usually was.

Her eyes rolled in what she hoped was a believably jovial manner, as she decided to change tactics and make light of the situation. Chances were good that Deeks had come prepared for a fight, and if one wasn't delivered, it was possible that he would be thrown off enough to let the matter go. "So I had some company after dinner. People have friends, Deeks."

"Yeah, normal people do. But you're _Kensi_. "

"If you choose you next words carefully, I may let you live," she said lightly, voice only slightly higher than usual.

"And if my next words are asking you if you're okay to go into work?"

It was risky and she knew it, but Kensi was running out of options quickly. If Jack walked in, the situation would spiral out of hand, but she swatted the thought out of her head and stepped into his comfort zone, hands reaching up to capture his face and point it down to her level.

His face was hot under her hands, having been heated by the angry flush that had rushed into his cheeks when he saw the bottles on the counter, but Kensi refused to let go. She forced their eyes to connect, something that she hadn't felt comfortable doing since Jack had come back, afraid that he would see more in the them than she was willing to reveal. They were in each other's space, sharing the same heavy air that settled at the bottom of their lungs, causing them to breath rapidly.

"Deeks," she breathed, more affected by her own actions than she expected to be, "Am I drunk?"

He didn't say anything, still too caught up in the impromptu staring contest to do much else. The moment was now bordering on uncomfortable and the bruises on her arms were throbbing, but there was no way in hell that she was going to be the first to look away.

"No," his shaky voice said finally, "No you're not."

The tension in the room was still tangible, the air _boiling, _but at least they could breathe again. Kensi could almost feel her lungs working again by the time Deeks reached up to grasp her wrist, pulling it away from his cheek and keeping it pressed against his side.

"But you can't tell me that there isn't something wrong," he said through his teeth, roughly flipping wrist over to reveal the purple skin that Jack had left there.

And like that, the moment was over.

Kensi sighed, rolling her eyes and backing up against the counter, ripping her arm away from her partner's grasp. "We all have our secrets, Deeks."

Her eyes must have hardened again because Deeks' scowl was as deep as she'd ever seen it, as he grabbed his keys off the table and turned towards the door. She didn't take long to dwell on the fact that when Jack had done the same thing hours ago it hadn't hurt near as much, afraid of what she'd discover if she went down that path.

"Yeah, we do." Deeks was speaking over his shoulder on his way out the door, unable to leave without getting the last word in. "But my secrets aren't kicking the crap out of me."

The door slammed, and Kensi _broke_.

* * *

><p>"Well, that was a disaster."<p>

Headquarters was quiet without the many agents that occupied it during the day. A small woman sat at her desk, waiting and taking deep, soothing sips from her mug of tea. She barely looked up when the speaker threw himself down in the chair across from her, frustration coming off of him in waves, rising like the steam from her tea.

"Can you honestly tell me that you expected any differently? Miss Blye has never exactly been an open book."

"True. But she's never been a diary with a steel padlock either."

Small shoulders shrugged, and Hetty sat back in her chair, studying her agent thoughtfully. Callen was hardly one to complain about keeping secrets, but he had been pushed to his limit. The operation manager found that he reached that limit much more rapidly when his Junior Agent was involved, as did Mr. Hanna. A tiny smile broke across her face as she thought about Mr. Deeks, who seemed to have no limits when it came to his partner. It was Deeks that had come to her after the others had left, seething and stating the obvious. _Someone hurt her, Hetty. Intentionally._ As if she didn't know.

The same thought had been plaguing her since the first unexpected visit to her office that day, the one that reported that Miss Blye was indeed injured. And defensive. Sam and G. were solemn, one convinced that the team should practically stage a raid on the younger woman's home, the other ready to call an ambulance. It had taken time, but she was able to calm all three of them, Deeks included, telling them that while she was unsure what caused her injuries, she knew that Kensi was not in any danger.

At least, she hoped not, which was not something that she had any urge to say aloud.

"Mr. Callen, perhaps it's best to let Miss Blye work it out on her own. She is a grown woman, and a very capable one at that."

The expression on Callen's face was as close to outraged as she had ever seen it, and if the situation had been less serious she would have chuckled.

"I'm not suggesting that you ignore the situation. I'm far from heartless. Spend some time with her, all three of you. Make yourselves available, and when she's ready to talk, she'll come to you."

Callen nodded succinctly, most likely sensing that Hetty wasn't going to budge on the subject and glad that he could at least do _something_ to help his friend.

"Do not babysit her, Mr. Callen," she ordered when he looked ready to move his desk next to hers. "Kensi is far too intelligent to let that slide."

When he was gone, Hetty opened the file on her desk and stared down the photo in the center. The mismatched eyes of her only female agent sparkled up at her, and she sighed, staring at the heavily muscled arm that lay possessively over Kensi's shoulder. Who could have known that the happy couple pictured at their engagement party could disintegrate into the cracked pieces that she saw now?

One thing was for sure.

If anything happened to her agent, there would be _hell_ to pay.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: To be honest, I really <em>hate<em> this chapter. I tried to throw in a little more Kensi/Deeks than I usually do, and I feel like it didn't work out. However, it did get the plot where I wanted it to be, so I hope to have the last two or three chapters out pretty soon. Thanks so much for all the excellent feedback!**


	6. Chapter 6

The car door slammed against the frame as Kensi slid into the driver's seat, frustrated by her lack of success. A pad a paper sat next to her, covered in her neat, tiny scrawl, before she lifted it into her lap and crossed _another_ name off the list. Jack's college roommate was next to no help, and to top it off, he didn't seem to understand that she had no interest in him, especially not after hearing all of his cheesy pick up lines. Like the three others that she'd visited before him, he hadn't heard from Jack in years and couldn't remember any places that may have been special to him. The skills that she'd developed as an NCIS agent were failing her now, as the standard form for an investigation had turned up no results.

Her day off was starting out poorly, which was a shame because she'd gone through an extremely awkward conversation with Hetty to earn it. Though, if the older woman was suspicious, she hid it well, which Kensi appreciated.

"_Please allow me to wrap my head around this, Miss Blye. You would like to take the day off?"_

Though problematic, the Operations Manager's incredulity had been understandable. Since the start of her NCIS career, Kensi had never willingly called in sick before, instead preferring to work as long as she could before Hetty or Callen put a foot down and sent her home. For her to start now must be concerning to say the least, especially after the disaster the day before had turned out to be.

"_Yes."_

"_But you are not ill?"_

_Hesitating slightly, Kensi had bitten her bottom lip before answering cautiously. "No." _

"_That is very strange," Hetty admitted, seeming bewildered, even over the phone. Kensi could have pictured blue eyes widening behind thick glass, making Hetty look deceptively surprised. To those that knew her long enough, it was obvious that she was rarely startled, and when she was, it never showed._

"_I hear it's called a personal day," she said lightly, "Apparently, they're pretty common."_

"_If you say so. I'll see you tomorrow, Agent Blye. Enjoy your personal day."_

After taking care of that, the agent had gone on to search for Jack, who had still not returned even after the sun came up. As she got into her car, Kensi had promised herself that when this was all over, she was going to sleep for three days straight to make up for all the lost rest. It had only taken her a few minutes to notice a odd rattling noise coming from the passenger door and frown thoughtfully. When she reached down to explore the pocket, she startled and pulled her hand back after something jabbed her palm. After pulling it up to examine it, she discovered a GPS tracker. Standard NCIS issued. Her phone had rung almost immediately after she flicked it out the open window and watched as it was crushed under the front tire of a passing Sedan.

The voice that greeted her was as close to panicked as she'd ever heard it, and for a moment Kensi had almost felt bad. At least, she did until she remembered that he'd been treating her like an errant teenager and tracking her without her knowledge.

She'd made a weak attempt to tamper down her irritation before answering her phone, but it apparently wasn't effective because her words came out as a sharp bark. "You're slipping, Callen. You didn't think to secure it so the noise wouldn't clue me in?"

"If I took any longer, you were going to catch on," he'd defended, sounding equal parts affronted and relieved, probably glad to hear that she wasn't crushed on the side of the road like his GPS tracker. "I took a risk."

"It didn't pan out," she'd ground out through her teeth, wishing that he wouldn't be so flippant about the situation. "Did you ever consider just trusting me?"

"Not once. You wouldn't either. Not if it was one of us."

That was mostly true, if she thought about it. She wasn't being treated any differently than the rest if the team would be if they were in her situation. It was just frustrating to be on the receiving end of their overbearing concern. "I'm fine, Callen."

"Any chance of you telling me where you are?"

The words had only been half out of his mouth before her cell phone battery was on the floor, separated from the phone with a flick of her wrist and a roll of her eyes.

Now, hours later when the streetlights had switched on and the sun was barely visible over the horizon, she was coming up empty handed and ready to throw in the towel. Several visits to an aunt, a grandfather, and an older brother had revealed that Jack was officially off the grid, again. No one had the slightest clue where he might have gone, which would have normally panicked her, had she not decided to pretend that this was just another case, one that had no bearing on her personal life. So far, the pretending game was getting old fast and she was running out of steam.

Instinct controlled her movements now, her mind slipping back to almost six years ago when she and Jack were still close. There were a few places that they frequented, back when she still actually _had_ a social life. Most weren't local, though they were in the same state, and Jack was without a vehicle, so chances were good that he would have stayed in the area. He'd proposed to her in a diner that was a few blocks away from their old apartment. That was next on her list, after she paid a visit to the park near the airport that they'd stopped in after he'd returned home. The place was pretty much deserted all the time, not having any real playground equipment, but it was unusually comforting to the couple. There they'd made the last happy memories that they had together before Jack was diagnosed, and they'd frequently gone back when he was well enough to pretend that everything was alright.

When she pulled into the parking lot, Kensi could see Jack's form on one of the benches and sucked in a breath. After all the time she'd spent searching, it set her a little off balance to realize that she'd actually _found_ him, something that she hadn't been able to do after he left the first time.

The man must have seen her car, he was sitting directly across the park and facing her, but made no move. Taking that as a good sign, she slipped out the car and started towards him, thrilled when he didn't show any signs of running again.

"Took you long enough," he said quietly, when she sat down next to him. "Are we going home?"

Had Deeks not built up her tolerance for comments like that, Jack would be incapacitated on the sidewalk by now.

"Yes," she agreed weakly, resisting the urge to throw her hands in the air in frustration, "We can go home."

If he said anything other than some variation of _yes dear_, she may just kill him.

"I drive," he said finally, moving to take the keys out of her hand.

Close enough.

It was a bad habit that she remembered from when they were dating, his insistence on always being behind the wheel, and it was one of the few things that they frequently fought about. Now, she had become accustomed to automatically driving, the rest of her team mates being too frightened of her to tell her no, but if he was willing to come with her, she'd take what she could get.

The paper with her list from earlier flew to the floor when she brushed it off the passenger seat to make room for herself. Jack was being shockingly compliant so far, but he did shoot a befuddled look at the cell phone that was still laying on the floor, battery long gone and probably stuck under the seat. When they were on the road again, hopefully going back to her home, the marine finally said something of value and tried to explain himself.

"I needed time, Kens. I had to think."

"Had to run off a hangover, too," she countered, slouching in her seat. His reflection in the window showed his wince, but Kensi was far from caring.

Being the passenger for once must be more disconcerting than she expected because it seemed that Jack was swerving slightly, unable to keep the car going in a straight line. Her eyes shut tight as she breathed deeply and kept herself from snatching the wheel out of his hand.

"Would you at least go the speed limit?"

Jacks eyes rolled slightly, and for a moment Kensi thought they were going to relive the many arguments that they'd had over her tendency to be a backseat driver.

"There's no one on the road, we're fine."

That simply wasn't true. There was something about his tone that made her glance at him, really seeing him for the first time since he'd left the house the day before. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair disheveled. More than just stress, or a hangover, or PTSD. His fingers tapped anxiously on the steering wheel, which was clutched loosely in one hand.

"Jack, pull over."

He wasn't drunk. He couldn't be. There was no amount of alcohol in the world that would make his stupid enough to drive on the freeway while he was drunk. As much as she kept telling herself that, Kensi couldn't pretend that she didn't notice the swerving. "Now, Jack. Pull over, now."

"Would you get off my back?"

It was possible that she could have talked him down if she'd had more time, however nothing she could have said would have kept them from drifting out of the passing lane and into the path of an oncoming SUV.

Kensi wished that she would have left the GPS tracker in the car when the sound of metal crunching reached her ears as the passenger door was demolished.


	7. Chapter 7

Kensi was almost entirely sure that Jack was gone for good this time, and positive that she no longer had any urge to try to find. What she was even more aware of was the fact that her entire midsection was aching and she had to have been hit by a train in addition to the initial accident, because otherwise she wouldn't be hurting this bad. Though, she was lucky. The paramedics at the scene

had told her that it could have been much worse, as if she hadn't already figure that out. The passenger door to the car was gone, blown off by the first impact, but Kensi had thrown herself off to the side at the last second, the combined force from both the speeding car and the hood crashing through the side slamming her into the dashboard but leaving her relatively unharmed. If you could consider multiple broken ribs and extensive facial bruising unharmed...

Jack had been completely unscathed, climbing out of the car on his own before setting off on foot, probably worried that the police would catch up to him. As she watched him go, her voice stuck in her throat, choking her with both the temptation to call out to him and the urge to let him walk away. The other driver had been faintly confused but stayed by her side all the same, going as far as to ride in the ambulance with her on the way to the hospital. However, eventually he fulfilled his duty as a good Samaritan and went home to his family, leaving Kensi alone in a hospital bed, regretting every decision that she'd made in the past week.

_I should have slammed the damned door in his face_, she thought to herself, though she knew that she didn't really believe it. Having Jack back in her life even for those few, miserable days was enough to put everything into perspective. The fiance that she loved had never come back from serving in the marines, something that she couldn't force through her own head in the days before his diagnosis.

The nurse at the door averted her eyes when Kensi raised a hand to swipe away tears that were forming in the corner of her eyes, somehow sensing that there was something deeper than a traffic accident at play here.

"Miss Miller? Your aunt is at the front desk. Is it alright if I send her up?"

Hetty, of course. Kensi probably shouldn't have used one of her established aliases, one that came with a next of kin attached, but she hadn't been thinking clearly and creating a new person on the spot came with its own disadvantages. Besides, she'd been considering telling Hetty everything anyway. The older woman was far less likely to fly off the handle than the agents on her team, and she may even be able to help.

"Yeah, I'd like to see her," she said quietly, nodding to the nurse.

Almost instinctively, she pulled at the damned hospital gown, trying to manipulate it into covering more of her body in the hope of manufacturing as much self confidence as she could before she had to face her boss. Hetty was an intimidating woman when she wanted to be, and Kensi never like to appear vulnerable in front of her. Not that Hetty would ever hold it against her.

In fact, Hetty was far from the picture of a stern operations manager when she turned up at the foot of her bed, stiff with panic but otherwise keeping her composure.

"My dear girl," she whispered, surprised at the extent of her injuries. The hospital hadn't specified while they were on the phone, leading Hetty to suspect that it had been minor. Her hand reached out instinctively, ghosting over her agent's bruised face, taking care not press too hard. Kensi looked down at the blankets that had fallen so that they only covered her knees, avoiding the operation manager's eyes at all costs. The shorter woman sat at the edge of the bed and waited for the junior agent to acknowledge her, hoping that she would feel comfortable telling her the truth.

Not for the first time, Hetty wondered if she'd made a mistake. She'd known that Jack was searching for Kensi, and _no one_ got to her agents if she didn't allow them to. Initially, there was some doubt about the effect that he would have on her only female agent. A strict background check had shown that Jack's prescriptions had been left unfilled and revealed a short stay in a rehabilitation facility. But Hetty also knew how much it would mean to Kensi for Jack to seek her out. Even if the two didn't end up reconciling, they at least deserved some closure.

Now, she wasn't so sure. This reunion seemed to have yielded disastrous results.

"Where is Jack, Kensi?" she asked faintly, hoping that both the use of her first name and the initial shock of learning just how much her boss knew would somehow get through to the younger woman.

Kensi swallowed visibly, but didn't answer, still staring intently at her lap. Shame welled in her throat, unable to be tampered down anymore. _Of course Hetty knew._

"He's gone," she answered finally, silently hoping that she wasn't lying and Jack really hadn't gone back to her home, though now that she thought about it, he had to go back to get his wallet at the very least. "I don't think that he would hang around after that."

"I should think not. Assaulting a federal agent is a very serious offense."

Blinking slowly, trying to process the older woman's words, Kensi raised her head to meet Hetty's eyes for the first time in what felt like days. "There was no assault, Hetty. It was an accident."

"Miss Blye."

"A car accident," she clarified, knowing how ridiculous it sounded even to her own ears. Over the course of the few days, she'd had to lie through her teeth to the people that her well enough to know when she was lying, but now they were expected to believe her? "Jack was drunk, but he didn't do this."

Large, owlish eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "I wish I'd known that before I asked your teammates to find him. Mr. Deeks was considerably upset."

And if she didn't get a hold of them soon, Jack would be too.


End file.
